The Trainee Diaries

Can you believe we’ve done it? Nine and a half weeks of training are behind us, and now we look forward to the next part of our journey. By tonight’s end, we will be the next set of volunteers. We’re about to join a league of extraordinary individuals devoted to changing the world. Doesn’t that make you feel great!?

We need to applaud ourselves, not just for what we’re about to do, but what we’ve already done. Ten weeks ago, we were strangers, meeting for the first time in Miami, and today, we are family. Together, we’ve endured waves of homesickness, relying on each other for support. We tried new foods, learned a new language, and adapted ourselves to a new culture and a new way of life. We were taken out of our comfort zone and placed in homes with people we barely new, but when we left, our families grew a little larger.

That is the essence of Peace Corps. We are in the business of spreading world peace through friendship. To most people, those are pretty words meant to inspire, but to us, that is our motto. It’s our way of life.

Each of us has our own reason for joining. Some of us crave adventure; others are driven by a desire to change the world. Maybe we’re not ready to settle down, or perhaps we’ve been settled for too long. We might be looking for inspiration, or we could be fulfilling a lifelong dream. Whatever the case, it’s important that you remember your motivation, and keep it close to your heart. During the next two years, we will be tested at every turn. We’ll wonder why we gave up our comforts, like air conditioning, or hot showers. We’ll miss important family events. Our favorite foods will be hard to come by, and we’ll miss the friends we left at home. We will continue to adapt to rules and regulations for safety and we’ll live our lives on a shoestring budget.

But these are the reasons Peace Corps is so prestigious. This is what makes us leaders. Out in the world, we learn how to make something from practically nothing. We discover a new way of relating to people. We develop an appreciation for what we have back home. But most importantly, we begin a lifetime of service.

This will not end after two years. The time we spend with Peace Corps will change us forever. We will speak at colleges and universities to recruit future volunteers. Some of us will get involved with service projects. Others will discover a love for communities, travelling, and doing “good.” Regardless, all of us will grow immensely.

As educators in Jamaica, our goal is to spread knowledge. But any real teacher knows that a person never stops learning. We will share with the locals as much as we will take away from them. This is a partnership between two cultures, and oftentimes, the littlest things we experience will be the biggest lessons.

The Peace Corps has been with Jamaica since 1962. We are the eighty-fourth group to lend our skills. Together, with those before us laying the foundation, with our Jamaican counterparts, and with the help of each other, we are reminded of another motto; out of many, one people. There is nothing more valuable than partnership. The human race is a social one, and what we are doing here is a beautiful thing. This time is ours. It’s our moment to shine. Let’s leave here today and do everything in our power to make the most of it.

Five weeks ago, I was so culture shocked that I wanted to go home. I didn’t care about my commitment; in fact, I hadn’t really made it yet. I was apprehensive about walking away from the Peace Corps, but I rationed that my happiness was more important, and at that moment, I was far from satisfied. I wanted my personal freedoms back, and I yearned for familiarity.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I would regret it if I left. After all, my decision to join was not one I made lightly, and I’d been alerted to the ups and downs that trainees and volunteers face throughout their service. That little voice inside my head, the one that dictates to my steadfast personality, told me to tough it out.

And today, I am so glad I did!

On Friday, during our Swearing In Ceremony, I sat with the members of my group while we waited to take our oaths. As we listened to our program directors speak, delivering words of wisdom and encouragement, I thought back to that week of doubt. It was then when I finally felt the pride and satisfaction I’d been looking for. And I knew, with every fiber of my being, this was only the beginning.

What would have happened if I’d left? I wouldn’t have realized how much of the language and culture I’d picked up. I kicked ass during the Language Olympics and amazed myself at the amount of material I’d retained. And if that wasn’t enough, I was due to give a speech within the hour.

I don’t even want to consider what I’d be doing if I were at home.

I smiled to myself, wishing that those who’d doubted me throughout my life could see me now. From a troublesome child with low self-esteem, to a Peace Corps Volunteer, elected to give a speech at the Ceremony, I was on top of the world. In the presence of PCJ staff, our supervisors, members of Jamaican congress, workers from the U.S. Embassy, and the media, I finally understood the gravity of the choice I’d made. I’d joined the Peace Corps, and I would never be the same again.

The ceremony lasted about two hours, and at its conclusion, twenty-eight trainees became twenty-eight volunteers. It felt a little like graduation. We’d spent ten weeks in training, and then we walked down a line of dignitaries, shaking their hands, and finally collecting a certificate of completion and taking a photo.

But I’ve glossed over some of the coolest parts, so let me fill you in. Our day started at 8:30 at the Ambassador’s residence. We were invited into her home, given a tour of her vast art collection, and then ushered into her veranda for a delicious, and elegant, breakfast. Unfortunately, she was called away and was not present, so we were greeted by the Chargé D’ Affaires, who fills in for her during her absence. We dined on bammi, rich Blue Mountain Coffee, egg and callaloo, pineapple tarts, cranberry muffins and tomato and mozzarella pastries.

Afterward, we took a couple of professional photographs, and then continued on to her backyard for our ceremony. After we were sworn in, we mingled in the backyard and was served finger sandwiches and cake. In the background, a selection of music was played softly. Here is my favorite part, because of all music, in the entire world, that they could have selected, they played a loop of Elton John songs. Thus proving the Elton John defines my life. =)

Now if only I can get him to play at my wedding….

By midafternoon, it was time for the volunteers to depart to our sites with our supervisors. My ride back to Cedar Valley was about two hours. As I drove up the mountain, I passed the school where I work. The students had only been dismissed a half hour earlier, so they were still hanging around the school, along with other members of staff. As I drove past, they saw me, called out my name, and jumped up and down with excitement.

The last two weeks of training were the most hectic, but by far the most rewarding. After leaving Ewarton, Education and Environment returned to Kingston for numerous nights of shenanigans. But I won’t divulge too much; what happens at Mayfair stays at Mayfair. But I can tell you about Language Olympics, Site Orientation Week, and the much anticipated Swearing In Ceremony.

On Monday, about two weeks ago, our training session included a series of games designed to test our knowledge and different components of culture. Each sector was asked to select four Olympians to represent the group in an intimidating Q&A session. Environment knew who their Olympians were, but Education somehow missed that memo.

So we randomly threw four people to the wolves, and I was chosen as one of them. Sitting at a table in front of the room, facing our opponents, my fellow Olympian leaned over. “I have no idea what I’m doing up here,” she whispered. “Me neither,” I returned, swallowing a lump of nervousness. We were not prepared. We didn’t study. Education was going to lose.

And then the game began.

Lending a hand at Dunn’s River Falls

I really ought to have more confidence in myself, because I retained far more from my language/culture lessons than I’d realized. For every five questions we were asked, I knew the answer to four of them. I amazed myself, and my sector-mates. “How did you remember all that stuff!?” they asked me later. I shrugged and shook my head, still unsure of the answer.

When the Q&A portion ended, the rest of the sectors joined in for relay races and a culturally appropriate bowling tournament. The competition was tight, and the scores were close, but Education won by the skin of our teeth. I received a couple of pats on the back then, and enjoyed my fifteen minutes of fame.

The next day, we met our supervisors. For Education, they were the principals of our schools, but I can’t speak for Environment. They came from all over Jamaica, as eager and nervous to meet us as we were to meet them. Peace Corps provided us with a fun icebreaker, and then a smooth transition into discussing our hopes and expectations of each other. Later, we re-congregated for a buffet lunch, and afterward, the trainees took all of their bags and dispersed. It was time to finally go to our sites.

That’s right, folks. I finally have a site! I am located in Cedar Valley, St. Thomas. It is up in the mountains, twelve miles from the tallest peak in Jamaica. The weather up there is beautiful; it’s about ten to fifteen degrees cooler, and the scene is a breathtaking one. My home and host mother are wonderful, and my school and supervisor is just as fantastic. I am one of five volunteers from G84 to join the St. Thomas crowd. My nearest volunteer is from G82, and eight miles downhill. I’ve already been invited to join the St. Thomas PCV’s in their weekly Saturday lunches down in Morant Bay, which is a forty minute ride down the mountain.

During the four days that I spent at site, I had opportunity to meet some of the people in my community, the students and teachers at my school, and get myself acquainted with Morant Bay, which is where I will go to do most of shopping. I met the police officers in Cedar Valley and acquired the names and numbers of a few reliable taxi and bus drivers.

Other things I like about my site:

The school doubles as a hurricane shelter

internet is strong in my area

steep hills provide a great workout

my host mom isn’t opposed to me getting a cat!

Catching up on some reading!

We returned to Mayfair by Saturday afternoon for our last week of training. Some of the questions we’d had for nine weeks were finally answered, and some of the security measures they’d enforced were a little more laxed.

It was nice to have that last week together before we split up again for another three months. Two of our units at the hotel had kitchens installed, so we made trips to the supermarket and bought pasta, pancake mix, and various other delicious foods to cook. We ordered a plethora of pizza and consumed a generous amount of alcohol. One more week until we’re accountable for our actions, right?

And finally, before we knew it, the week was over. Tomorrow, we wake up, put on our formal attire, and proceed to the Ambassador’s residence for our long-awaited Swearing In Ceremony.

We will conclude our training and be sworn-in as the next group of Peace Corps Volunteers. The staff, our training specialists, our supervisors, and members of the US Embassy and Jamaican congress will all be in attendance.

But I’ve save the best part for last.

Each sector was asked to select one person to give a speech during the ceremony. Guess who Education voted for?

A few nights ago, I walked into the kitchen and turned on the light. In the middle of the floor sat two giant cockroaches, their antennas twitching. I am no stranger to these bugs; in fact, I know them well enough to have valid reason to fear them. Terrified, would be a more appropriate term.

Despite my phobia, a small meep escapes my lips as I ease out of the kitchen and hurry to rap on my host mother’s bedroom door. “There are two giant cockroaches in the kitchen!” I blurt out as soon as she opens it. “Where?” she asks me, reaching for her slippers. “The kitchen!”

My host mother, a short, stout woman, wearing a thin cotton nightgown, shuffles across the living room and into the bright yellow light. “Mi outta di spray,” I hear her mutter to herself. Frightened beyond words, I linger around the corner and poke my head into the kitchen. How, I wonder, does a Jamaican woman deal with a cockroach without Raid?

I soon had my answer.

The roaches had since scattered, and they were now on opposites side of the room. My host mother shuffles over to one and carefully balances herself just long enough to remove her slipper. Wielding it in her hands, she slams it down repeatedly on top of the oversized insect. Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! She stands back to admire her work. “Dat one dead!” Then she moves to the other roach, slamming her slipper down once more. Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Then she drops her footwear on the floor and slides it back on with a shrug.

I have a newfound respect for this woman.

Cockroaches aside, I am once again in Countdown Mode. Only this time, I am not counting toward a departure, but to a permanent residence. Swearing-In is in twenty-one days!

On a whole, I’m doing much better now than I was the last time I posted. There are no excuses for how I felt, and truth be told, I still feel much of the same, but I’ve been able to put those feelings aside and recognize that they will fade with time. Or they might not, which is okay too.

I can say that I was thrown off by my level of homesickness. I’ve spent countless summers at sleep-away camp and went to an out of state school, yet I never missed home the way I do now. I suppose it’s the cultural adjustment. I also may have scared myself by reading some material PC provides for our families. In it, it discusses how many Returned Volunteers have a harder time adjusting to life at home after service, than they did adjusting to their host country. That was a mistake on my part; there is a reason this material is given to the families and not the volunteers. I worried that I’d committed a grave error by leaving my home, after finally finding happiness, only to return after two years and have to find it all over again. The only consolation is that I am an adventurous soul, and I would not have been satisfied for very long. Perhaps this is for the best.

Last Saturday, the education sector pooled our money together and rented a bus to take us up to Ocho Rios (referred to from now own as Ochi) to go to Dunn’s River Falls. It’s a private beach, complete with a food stands, local craft tents, a beach, and a waterfall that you can climb up with natural pools at each level to hang out in. I especially enjoyed paying the Jamaican rate to get in. We had to present our Peace Corps IDs, that has the PCHQ address listed, to prove that we are residents of the island. It would have cost us three times as much, otherwise!

(more pictures from DRF to come)

It was a great day, and well worth the money (DRF admission and bus fare). The sun was hot and the water was cool. We stopped in town on the way out to pick up some ice-cream, or pay a visit to Burger King or KFC. But my stop in town was much, more successful, and as far as I’m concerned, much more exciting than any ice-cream, Burger King or KFC. At the supermarket in Ochi, I found Smartfood White Cheddar Cheese Popcorn.

MADE MY WEEK!

On a final note, I’d like to thank my friends who reached out to me during my time of need. I enjoyed hearing from you, and appreciate the lengths you went to ensure I felt loved. It was exactly what I needed to pull me through a difficult week. I’d like to remind everyone that I encourage emails, and even the silliest of sorts is welcomed.

I’m frustrated with mosquitoes, with walking long distances in sweltering heat, sweating out my good clothes, and of always feeling dirty and grimy. I haven’t washed my hair in days…

But frustration is a big part of what it’s like to be a volunteer. We’re in a new place, dealing with new situations, and presently, being lectured day in and day out while living out of a suitcase. After being sworn-in, I’ll have a whole new set of frustrations to deal with.

We are reminded repeatedly that Peace Corps service is as much of a challenge as it is a reward. This post isn’t all rainbows and butterflies, and you should be aware that there will probably be more like it in the future. This blog is my outlet; a place for my voice to be heard, and I intend to use it as such. I’m speaking freely here. It is my platform, after all.

My first grievance is with training. They weren’t kidding when they said it will drain you. We spend seven hours a day sitting in our professional clothing (after first walking and sweating in them), listening to lectures, and trying to get a grasp on what it is we’re going to be doing. We receive a broad view, yet every assignment varies in degree. We still have not been placed, and I for one am getting antsy.

Training isn’t terrible – don’t misunderstand – but the days seem to be dragging on. I have questions that still haven’t been answered and I am forced to find within myself another daily dose of patience.

I just want to be placed already! I am tired of living out of a suitcase, having no idea what my next living and working situation will be like. I want control of my diet (my host mom prepares most of my meals), and I want to dictate my own schedule. Right now, we go and do what Peace Corps tells us to. I’m ready for the next stage, and we still have four more weeks to go.

The problem with me is that I have a pessimistic side. I try to keep it at bay, but through my frustration, it’s coming out faster than I can stop it. What if this, and what if that? This past week, I’m afraid I lost sight of what I wanted. Homesickness is setting in, and the temptation to give in became overpowering. With the help of friends and family, I managed to steer myself back on course long enough to commit myself to the end of training. At the moment, it’s hard to see much further than that.

I suppose I miss the conveniences I’m accustomed to. I had internet at my fingertips and a set of car keys in my hands. I exercised regularly, and ate my favorite foods with my favorite people, while watching my favorite TV shows. Do we see a pattern here? I’m still adjusting to this new life. I walk into a supermarket and scan the shelves for something familiar. I long to see a car where the steering wheel is on the left side. I keep two quarters in my wallet, because they’ve become memorabilia.

And I miss my Emma. Oh, how I miss my girl…

On a more positive note, I had a unique shadowing experience. I travelled out to St. Thomas last week (by myself, via public transit) to shadow a PCV from Group 83 who is like me in many ways. We bonded instantly, sharing a love for arts & crafts (primarily of the string kind), kids, teaching, and The Big Bang Theory. We are the same age and share many other similar interests. Visiting her shed some real light on what the next two years might be like for me. It answered some questions, and raised a few others. More importantly, it gave me a chance to really consider what I am doing here in Jamaica and if it is something I could be happy with. I’m still not a hundred percent sure of the answer, but I suppose that is okay for now.

In the meantime, it would help to hear from my friends back home. I have limited internet, and I find I miss the camaraderie Facebook usually has to offer. Instant messaging and texting have become a thing of the past. I would hate for sparse communication to cause a divide between my closest comrades and me. Always remember that I have email, and still do my best to check it daily. I’d really love to hear from you.

For now, the most logical course of action is to keep my chin up and hope for the best. Four more weeks of training; here we go.

Sometime back in September, when I was still waiting to hear from Peace Corps, I did a Google search for active PCV blogs, and came across one belonging to a girl scheduled to depart for Sub-Saharan Africa in October. “That b****!” I thought, “She took my spot!” I decided to follow her blog anyway.

During the months that passed, I read about lightning storms, electrical shortages, and water outages. Disheartened (and already aware that I was going to Jamaica), I told my mother that I didn’t think this was going to be experience I wanted it to be. I was adamant that it wouldn’t be enough of a culture shock, and that with electricity, indoor plumbing, and internet, I wasn’t going to challenged. “April,” she told me, “you wouldn’t last a day in Sub-Saharan Africa. Trust me.”

I can see it now – the self-satisfied grin on my mother’s face as I hang my head in defeat and admit that she was right.

I have been in Ewarton, St. Catherine for less than a week, and I’ve already had to wash my face in a basin of water, and perform what is known as “the bucket flush.” My first “bucket shower” wasn’t so bad either. This is area is prone for water lock-offs, and within three days, I was used to it. There are goats that live just outside my window and a rooster that crows off in the distance each morning. To get to training, I walk ten to fifteen minutes downhill.

Ewarton (pronounced you-er-tin), is up in the mountains and about half an hour away from Ocho Rios. The weather here is vastly different from that of Hellshire. It’s significantly cooler, and the hour-long storm that passed through on my first day left a chill in the air that lasted throughout the night. According to the locals, the weather in Jamaica varies depending on where you are on the island. Hellshire is considered one of the hottest parts; the mountains some of the coldest. It’s been reported the volunteers placed in the mountains have had to ask their parents to send them warmer clothes!

I’ll be here for five weeks, completing my HUB-Based Training (HBT). More specifically, I’ll be doing work directly related to my project: Education. During CBT, we learned about the history, culture and language of Jamaica, while merely touching on our sectors. Here, we’ll continue to build on our CBT, but we’ll spend more time discussing the challenges the Jamaican school system faces, and how we as volunteers can do our part. We’ll take field trips to local schools, have some real hands-on learning, and get some Q&A time with other education volunteers already in service. And next week, we’ll each be assigned our own volunteer to shadow! I am so excited to finally get to see how a real volunteer lives and works.

*Note: in case you’ve forgotten from my last post, Education and Environment sectors have split up. Environment is in a different part of the island, doing their own version of HBT.

Now that I am in a new place, I also have a new host family. Except that my situation is a little less of a “family” and a little more of “a mother.” I live with a sweet woman in her sixties who is very eager to feed me and teach me about Jamaican foods. We have plans to clean the house and cook this Sunday. My room is slighter larger than my last one, and I have own private entrance, with an adjoining door to the rest of the house. I do not have internet at my home.

Which reminds me – INTERNET. Over the last five days, it’s been noted that I am internet junkie. My fellow trainees have spared no expense when teasing me about my love of connectivity. Here is a sample of a conversation I had recently:

“But what if you’re placed in an area where you have to take two taxis just to get to an internet café?”
“Oh my god, I would die.”
“And you thought you wanted Africa?”

I think it may be time to put my foot in my mouth.

Rest assured, dear readers, I will have my internet one way or another. Currently, I have access to internet at my training site, and I plan to bring my laptop daily so I can get my fix. Luckily for me, my house might not have internet installed, but it is available in the area. I can purchase a WiFi card that provides me with twenty-four hours of WiFi at a time. I will save that for the weekends, I think.

In the meantime, here are some other aspects of rural life I am adjusting to:

I wear one pair of shoes to walk down to training, and then change into my heels to keep my professional dress code in check.

Having limited water allows for creativity when keeping clean. Did you know that using cornstarch in your hair keeps it from looking greasy?

Doing laundry by hand is an all-day chore. Fabric softener works wonders for clothes drying on the line.

Don’t be alarmed if you meet an animal on Monday, and it’s on your plate by Friday.

And finally, I am improving dramatically on my Patois (sometimes, Patwa). At first, I was challenged because the language is so close to English, that as a grammar nazi, I have a hard time speaking improperly. Saying “mi” instead of “I” is not something I wanted to do. I also struggled because many of the words are so close to English, that my first reaction is just to speak it. For example, ansa. Can you guess what that word is? It’s answer. However, as we continue with our language lessons, I am developing a keen ear for it, and it’s becoming much easier to pick up on. The inclination to speak Patois is much stronger now. I keep thinking to myself, wow, imagine if I had to learn an entirely new alphabet. Better yet, what if I was placed in an area where English wasn’t even an option? Like Africa.

All in all, I’ve come to realize that I have plenty to adjust to already. I still disagree with my mother – I think I would have done just fine in Africa. There would have been a different set of norms to adjust to, but I am flexible, and still convinced I would have managed and found happiness just the same. However, Mom also claimed that Jamaica would be enough of a culture shock, and enough of an experience that it would be what I wanted. Four weeks into training and I am beginning to agree. Jamaica is full of diversity, cultural differences, and still a dramatic shift from my lifestyle back in America. Where I complained that the weather was the same as in Miami, Mom argued that I would not be accustomed to life without air conditioning.

“But Mom, I am still in the same time zone!”
“And you’re still going to feel as though you’re a world away.”

She was right on all accounts. The girl in Africa can keep her electrical shortages and water wells; it turns out Jamaica is rural enough for me.

For all our best intentions, we’re still looking a little more like a collection of freshly steamed lobsters. Never before have you seen a group so haphazardly toasted. No amount of sunscreen has protected us.

Otherwise I’d say we’re having a great time. This past week, we continued our training in Hellshire, as well as making some trips outside of town. We ventured back into Kingston a few time to visit the market, learn some cool Jamaican dance moves, and eat some delicious ice cream.

We also visited Port Royal. You know, like the Port Royal from Pirates of Caribbean. In case you weren’t aware, Port Royal was a real place, located right here in Jamaica. Back during the pirating heydays, it was the seventh largest natural port and known as the wickedest city in the world. But then in 1692, a terrible earthquake shook the land and sent more than 75% of the land under water. What’s left has been preserved and protected by the small town of Port Royal and the country of Jamaica.

We had a chance to tour the land, browse over some recovered artifacts, and watch a short video on Port Royal. Then it was off to Devon House for ice cream!

On Thursday, we went to the market. Picture Canal Street in New York, only larger, louder, and busier. People were set up on blankets and tarps in the street, selling almost anything you could think of. Shoes, clothes, handbags, hats, soap, household items, and food up the wazoo. That was probably the coolest part. You walk into the “food” section of the market and there is vendor after vendor, under a tarp for an overhang, selling coconuts, melons, beans, flour, sugar, limes, almond corn, lychees, and so much more. There were fruits I’d never even heard of!

We had one assignment that day; buy something at the market. I can’t speak for the other trainees, but I was a little overwhelmed by it all. I didn’t know what to buy, or where to turn first. I finally settled on picking up a bar of soap, since I needed one. Another trainee haggled a vendor for a coconut and managed to get a decent sized one for pretty cheap. The man used a massive knife to cut open a hole just large enough to drink from. The water inside was delicious and hydrating. She was satisfied for hours!

We also managed public transportation that day. It was part of our learning experience. We broke off into small groups and went with an LCF on the taxis, the buses and minibuses. What an experience! The roads are bumpy, and there were way too many people crammed into that tiny vehicle. I felt safe with my LCF, but I think when it comes time to do it on my own I’ll be much more nervous the first couple of times.

Anyway, we have a security test on Thursday, and we have to get 100% and we have Patois lessons all week. Friday is Good Friday, and so we get the day off (hallelujah!), and then on Sunday we move from Hellshire to our HUBs for HBT. There, I’ll be assigned to a new host family and I’ll be staying with that one for next five weeks. Group 84 will split up for the first time since our arrival. Education will be in one town; Environment will be in another.